


First Tokyo, Now Paris

by orphan_account



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Excellent Memory, M/M, Paris - Freeform, Tokyo - Freeform, Trains, Unrequited Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-29
Updated: 2016-06-29
Packaged: 2018-07-19 02:13:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7340494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hux embarrasses himself on a train in front of an attractive stranger in Tokyo. </p><p>Haunted by that memory, he's going to do it again. On the way to Paris. In front of the same stranger. (Whose name is Kylo Ren, by the way.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	First Tokyo, Now Paris

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt:
> 
>  _Kylux word prompt: train :)_ from @thecheshireknight on tumblr! Thanks very much, and I hope you enjoy!

It was on the Tokyo train line that Hux first saw him.

Now, it should be noted that many Japanese people live in Japan, and that most of the people on the train were Japanese, so it did not surprise Hux that the other pale-skinned foreigner on the train had caught his eye.

He tried to dismiss the figure quickly, but he could not help the burning image the other foreigner had left scarred on his mind:

A tall, broad, and admittedly well-muscled man with tastefully messy black hair in casual (he was obviously a tourist) and soft black clothing. His nose was a bit large, but he had the most beautiful brown eyes that left Hux choking when they locked gazes.

Then the stranger had returned to his novel - and he was standing, too, holding the railing above him and towering over everyone and just standing there and _reading_ \- and that was it for the entire rest of the five minute train ride.

Maybe because Hux had stumbled back after a sudden jolt, straight into a short and elderly Japanese man. Cheeks burning, he quickly apologized to the flustered man in what little Japanese he knew.

Once that debacle was over, he glanced over at the attractive stranger. His heart palpitated when he realized that there was a ghost of a smile playing over the stranger’s lips - possibly from his own slip-up, but that was besides the point. The man looked positively lovely like that, and the realization had his stomach in terrible knots.

He was not entirely uncomfortable, though.

Hux quickly got off at the next station when the stranger made no move to do so, feeling glad that his office was there and not further.

Yet feeling oddly empty, too, as the train pulled away and his feet were glued to the concrete floor instead of on the bumping floor of the now long-gone train.

(And, perhaps, standing opposite the beautiful stranger.)

 

* * *

 

That was five months ago. Hux traveled often for his work, which was something of a high position in an international aerospace company. He wasn’t the head - yet. Judging by the rapid speed at which he was gaining popularity and building a reputation, Snoke would have to watch out.

But that was besides the point, and the base of his shock was certainly not from that long-made revelation. No, no, the credit for that would have to go to the man sitting next to him on the Eurostar.

It was the strange man from Japan - the one who’d sat patiently in the corner of his thoughts, lurking and smirking and winking.

(He was quite the personality for someone who existed in his mind only.)

Hux swiveled about, giving the train car a once, twice, thrice over when he came to the terrible conclusion that it was full and that this, indeed, was to be his seat.

Hux’s (terrified! petrified! horrified!) mind raced back to when they’d met, when he’d nearly squashed an elderly man. And had mortified himself and likely everyone else on the train with his sloppy Japanese. And then raced off the train, flushed from head to toe.

Oh, God.

Hopefully he wouldn’t remember Hux, whoever the beautiful stranger was.

Hux hoped and he prayed and he willed every deity that might exist in the entire universe. He was not ashamed to say that he begged and he pleaded, so long as the strange man would not turn to look at him - and, God forbid, recognize him!

He doubted the latter, to be honest. His face was not a memorable one, and he was the one with an embarrassing memory to tag to a stranger’s face.

(Maybe he was a little disappointed that the stranger wouldn’t recognize him, because who didn’t _love_ something so cliché as that. But he convinced himself that the heady relief that flooded his senses was much better.)

The train’s PA system announced that they would be departing in a minute, and Hux realized that he would have to sit down soon.

_Better to just rip it off. Take a seat. Just get over your anxiety; just rip off the bandage._

Taking a deep breath to calm his nerves, Hux took his seat beside the dark-haired man. He then took out his phone and began rifling through emails, ignoring the sweaty stiffness that had claimed his entire body. God, he was nervous. And anxious.

(Was he really doing this? Was he _really_ going to have a stupid schoolboy crush?

Didn’t help that he could feel the heat rolling off of his seat partner; they were so close. Didn’t help that he could catch a whiff of his cologne, of his oddly fruity scent. Didn’t help that he could see the stranger’s hands, and how perfectly warm they looked.)

The train pulled out of the station slowly, then sped up as soon as it exited. Hux did not care much for either trains or scenery, and so he allowed himself to be as deeply engrossed by his phone as possible. Maybe if he kept his head down, he thought desperately, he could ignore the devil beside him.

_(speak of the devil)_

“I know you. Don’t I?”

And ‘shit’ was not the worst thing running through Hux’s mind.

In fact, his brain felt like it was on fire. Apparently, the only thing to douse the flames was a long, violent string of expletives. And imagery of Hux setting everything else in the world on fire so that they would suffer with him, because he was most definitely paying for every sin he’d ever committed right then.

“No,” said Hux calmly, looking up from his phone’s dim screen (it saved battery). The stranger was looking at him with _those_ wonderful brown eyes, and they were peeling him apart from the inside out, which wasn’t as terrible as it sounded. “I don’t recognize you.”

“You must,” the stranger insisted, turning to face him with squared shoulders. Hux recognized for a brief moment that he had a terribly endearing American accent. “Tokyo, right?”

Well, there was no turning back from that one. The stranger had a very determined and sure look, meaning that he’d already made up his mind. He was not speculating anymore; the stranger _knew_ that he knew Hux.

It would be distasteful to lie in the face of defeat.

“The Tokyo train,” Hux said wearily.

The stranger grinned, a look that both made him infinitely more attractive (oh, yes, Hux had definitely gone off the deep end now) and infinitely more dangerous.

“I’m Kylo Ren,” he said as he offered his strong and exquisite (Hux really had to stop) hand out to shake.

“Hux,” he replied shortly. The train jolted a little as if to acknowledge his own bumpy attitude.

Kylo Ren raised an eyebrow. “Is that your last name or first name?”

He scowled in return, eyes flitting back down to his phone screen. “Did I poke fun at your name? No, I did not.”

Hux felt mortified, but he did not let it show. He was terrible at flirting. Really, really bad at it. Actually, he wanted to flirt, but he couldn’t even. Whoever this Ren was surely hated him by now; that was a common occurrence.

Instead, Ren laughed. It was a breathy sound, not totally genuine, and it made Hux’s heart flutter. “That’s true, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Hux agreed weakly, the urge to return to the safety of his phone ever greater. He was proud when he managed to resist. In fact, when he turned to face Ren, the phone was shut off and stored in a zipped-up jacket pocket.

“You’re getting off at Paris, too, I hope,” Ren said. He’d leaned forward slightly. Observing Ren’s face for signs of tells, Hux slowly realized that Ren was earnest, and it was not a question.

When Hux agreed somewhat reluctantly that he was, in fact, Ren jumped at the opportunity to ask him out for drinks. And then he clarified that it was, actually, a date.

A _romantic, I am interested in you, maybe someday we will marry and raise a cat together_ date.

That sort of date.

For drinks.

 _I don’t drink_ , Hux tried to say but instead he said, “That would be amiable.”

_Damn his weak heart! Damn his softness for romantics! Damn everything!_

And then he faltered, the train jostling him a bit from side-to-side -

\- Ren had smiled at him again, that lovely and shark-like smile.

_Ah._

That made up for it all.


End file.
